


I'm Not Worthy

by Sari_ri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Good Parent John Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sari_ri/pseuds/Sari_ri
Summary: Sam knows he's smart, but like his dad always says, "Whether or not Sam can name all the countries in the world in under sixty-seconds, maintaining and keeping his voice and punctuation clear and steady, or even if he can solve problems that even the people at NASA have trouble solving, being smart won't help them when they're out on the field, hunting monsters, the thing they do best."
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	I'm Not Worthy

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this has been in my drafts for a little over a month, and let me just say I am so happy that I finally finished it. I'm sorry it's so long, but I hope you enjoy!

Dean has always been above Sam in anything in everything. In age, in height, in muscle, in cardio... The one and the only thing that Sam seemed to do better than Dean at was school. Sam _adored_ learning. He always strives to make whatever paper or project he's working on to be the best in the class, or sometimes, even the best in the whole grade if he's feeling extra enough.

Sam knows he's smart, but like his dad always says, "Whether or not Sam can name all the countries in the world in under sixty-seconds, maintaining and keeping his voice and punctuation clear and steady, or even if he can solve problems that even the people at NASA have trouble solving, being smart won't help them when they're out on the field, hunting monsters, the thing they do best." Which, coincidentally, is what they were doing right now. 

"Sam?" The youngest Winchester shook his head at the sound of his father's booming voice as it bounced and rattled along every nook and cranny of the 1967 Impala as the car zoomed down the highway. Sam shifts his eyes upwards.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out small as he comes back to reality and is dragged out of his thoughts. 

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?" Sam could see John's eyes flicker at him through the rear-view mirror. He looked tired. "Sam." 

"Y-Yes Sir!" Sam stammered out, hoping his dad wouldn't catch it. Seeming to be satisfied, though, John sets his eyes back on the road and, once again, begins talking about the case at hand, and what the plan was as to how they were going to kill whatever it was they were chasing. 

Sam tried to focus. He swears he tries the hardest he could to focus on what his dad was saying, but he still couldn't help his mind from wandering back to the thought of school, to the essay he had to write, or to all those papers for his math class that he had to complete that was just sitting in the bottom of his backpack, just waiting to be completed back in the motel room...

The Impala came to a sudden stop. Sam looked out the driver's side window, noticing that they were outside an abandoned and desolate building. He heard both Dean and his father open up their doors, Sam doing the same, the three Winchesters then meeting at the back of the car, John popping the trunk and grabbing a few weapons. He handed one to each of his kids, along with a flashlight, which promptly went into his belt loop, before shutting the trunk and turning around to face his boys. "Alright boys, remember the plan?" He glances at Dean who gives him a hearty, "Yes, Sir."When his father's gaze drifted to Sam, he just simply nodded. John raised an eyebrow towards his youngest. "Sam." 

Sam swallows. He can't seem to remember his dad even talking about a plan. Well, maybe bits and pieces here and there, but not enough for him to piece together a full... plan. Sam darts his eyes around them, feeling suddenly anxious with both his dad and his brother staring at him. There was no way he could tell his dad he had no idea what the plan was. Doing that was completely, utterly, 100% out of the question. How hard was figuring out one of his dad's plans, anyway? Against his better judgment, instead of telling his dad that no, he, did _not_ know what the plan was, and facing his father's wrath now, he slowly nods, uttering a barely audible "Yes, sir." 

Both his father and Dean nod in quick confirmation, before John turns, beginning to head towards the building, Dean following behind only for a moment before he turns and begins to slink along the side of the building. Not knowing which way to go, Sam sticks to the safe bet and continues to trail behind his father as he's done with all the previous hunts his family has been on. 

John makes his way up the front steps of the very medium-sized building, motioning for Sam to continue following when he starts to subconsciously lag behind. _Okay._ Sam thinks. _I was supposed to go this way._ Sam continues to follow his dad as John leads them into the front entrance of the building, the both of them creeping along the first floor silently, the only thing erupting the silence being the occasional squeak of an unbalanced floorboard, though John quickly puts an end to that. Sooner than he'd like, Sam and his dad soon exit through the backdoor, entering what appeared to be the area behind the building. 

Sam subconsciously shifts the gun that his father had given him back at the Impala in his arms, dispersing the weight as his eyes begin scouring the backyard. They freeze when they spot something hunched up in between what looked to be a fallen tree log and a few bushes. _Dean._ Sam squints his eyes, the barely-there moonlight now jumping and casting shadows along the ground. _Dean was sitting there._

The younger Winchester brother keeps his brothers position in the back of his mind as he continues to sweep the area over. He had no idea what they were hunting, nor did he actually know what he should be doing, but his dad wasn't stopping so he shouldn't either. He didn't want to make John mad and risk him knowing Sam didn't know about the plan. Sam follows his father's silent footsteps as they travel all over the surprisingly huge backyard, kicking small rocks and fallen branches out of his way as he does so. As he moves, Sam makes sure to keep watch for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. 

Sam grunts lightly as he accidentally knocks into his father. "Shh!" John hisses, then taking a kneeling position on the ground. Sam follows suit, his jean covered knees sinking into the cool dirt of the earth. A shiver rakes up his spine, though he says nothing. His eyes scan for Dean, panic quickly rising in his throat as he no longer sees his brother in the spot he swore he was in when they got there. Before he can say anything though, a small sigh of relief slips passed his lips as movement appears in his line of sight on the right side. He and John had gone around Dean. 

_But wait, why was Dean alone, all the way up there, when he and John were back here?_ Sam furrowed his brows in confusion, as he gently nudged his dad with his elbow. "Dad," He whispers, barely audible enough for even his ears to pick up. His father grunts softly, pushing the barrel of his gun through a gap in a few stray branches that lay from the fallen tree they were behind. "How come Dean's over there, and we're over here?" Sam asks, still keeping his voice in the same tone. 

Sam can see his dad peek over at him out of the corner of his eye, clearing his throat softly. "It's all apart of the hunt, Sam," John answers gruffly, before turning his sight back onto his eldest, gun shifting ever so slightly as he moves. That answer didn't help any though as he furrowed his brow once again. 

"But... It doesn't make any sense." Sam mutters, knowing that was all he was going to get out of his father. He huffs, re-situating himself on his knees. His legs were starting to become sore now. He could feel the dried mud on his jeans. It would probably stain. He just couldn't for the life of him understand _why_ Dean was all alone. Sam could see the glint of a pistol in his older brother's hands, the metal reflecting off the now prominent moonlight. He didn't have shotguns like him and his dad did. 

A screeching sound brought the youngest Winchester out of his thoughts. His eyes flick frantically around, trying to find his brother. Dean always calmed him down, though he'd never admit it. Not at this age, not at any. He can feel his breathing start to slow when his eyes finally landed on Dean. He was kneeling on the ground, much like Sam and his dad were. The only difference is now instead of Dean looking straight ahead at nothing, his brother was staring up slightly. But at what? 

Against his better judgment, which he hasn't been listening to lately, Sam averts his eyes from his brother, feeling his pulse begin to quicken as he sees... _it._ He couldn't even be able to begin to describe what it was. He couldn't see much due to the low amount of light that there was at the angle he was at, but from what he could see, this was one ugly monster. 

Sam's mouth opens in a silent gasp as he could see this thing begin to walk -nono, _stalk_ \- towards Dean. He glances around frantically, looking over at his dad. He could see John's brow furrow the slightest bit, but other than that, his dad showed little emotion to what was happening to his eldest. Sam's head whips back to the scene in front of him when he hears the thing's ear-splitting screech again, and then he sees it. 

_This thing was charging for his brother. This thing was charging for Dean._

"No!!" Sam's voice surprises him as he jumps up, completely forgetting about the dirt on his jeans or the fact that his legs were numb from kneeling for so long. He went to take a step, to charge at his brother, hopefully get him out of the way before whatever this thing was got to him, but all he did was fall.

Sam lets out a heavy groan as he fell, but it was barely audible over the insanely loud shot that rang out. Sam could feel his breathing stop. He could hear the ringing in his ears, but above all, he could hear the sound of Dean's screams and John's yells. He could feel the vibration of feet race past him as he lay on the ground, as he faintly heard another couple of shots ring out. "Dean!" 

Sam's eyes quickly snap open. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, and holy _shit_ the ringing was so loud. He fumbles around in the dark, the dim light from the moon vanishing behind a cloud. Pushing himself upwards, onto his knees once again, Sam reaches out, searching for his gun. His hands find it, and then they quickly recoil up into his chest. it felt hot. Very, very hot. 

_Like it had just fired a bullet._

Sam's stomach lurches and he has to slam his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting. Looking around again, his eyes quickly land onto his father, or what he could see of him. He quickly scrambles up, running to be at his brothers' side. "Dean!" He screams his brother's name, not caring about how loud he's being in the moment. His father turns to look at him as he approaches, immediately falling to his knees. 

"Dean Dean, Dean, Dean." He's muttering his brothers' name as he's reaching out. He had to make sure he was okay. _Oh God please be okay._ A groan from the oldest brother yanks Sam back into the moment. His mouth falls open with the sound of Dean's name on his lips. 

"Dean, you need to lay still." John orders, not paying Sam any mind. In fact, it was as if the Youngest brother wasn't there. He could see John move his brother onto his side, lifting his shirt. "Shit. Not enough light." He murmurs, before quickly snatching the small hand-held flashlight that lay in his belt loop. "Sam. Hold this." John's tone sounds serious. 

Sam reaches for the flashlight with shaky hands, having to quickly grab onto one wrist with the other hand to keep the thing at least somewhat steady. Now that there was light, he could see John pull up Dean's shirt, exposing the bullet wound. Sam doesn't hold back with the retching noise he makes, though he quickly forces everything down when his father looks back at him. 

"Dad... How's it look?" Dean mutters softly, his voice husky and filled to the brim with agony. Sam's heart clenches. He thinks he might cry. Or scream. Or both. Sam could see John begin to try and make a makeshift tourniquet. ripping off, and, using the knife that was also in his belt, began cutting off a long strip of Dean's shirt. He maneuvers his son so that he was onto his back, wrapping and securing the pieces of the shirt right where it needed to be. 

"It's okay." Dean groans in pain as John pulls his knot together. "It's okay. The bullet just grazed you." John says, reassuring his eldest by gently patting him on the shoulder. His voice is low. Sam's still holding the flashlight. "C'mon, we're gonna get you back to the car. Sam," John looks up at his youngest. Sam couldn't see his expression, but he could feel it. "Go. Grab the guns. Meet us by the car. Now." 

Sam gulps and nodded, reaching over and handing John back the flashlight. John sticks it in his belt loop, securing it so it was pointing low to the ground, allowing him to see where he was going. He then shifts his attention back towards Dean. "You good? You think you can walk?" He asks, though the groan from Dean even at the mention tells him what he needs to know. John huffs as he stands up, bending down and scooping Dean into his arms. it was John's turn to groan slightly at the weight, jumping Dean up a little. 

Sam does as his father tells him, keeping his mouth silent. He fumbles his way back to where he and his dad were sitting before all of this, picking up his dad's then discarded gun. He slings it over his shoulder, before turning around, careful to not fall over anything this time. He stops at where his own gun lay, swallowing as he bends down. He wraps his fingers around the handle, then quickly lets it go. The weight of it felt unfamiliar now. 

Knowing he wanted to get to the car as soon as possible to be with his brother, Sam huffs, bending down again and picking up the gun. He tried not to think about the weight on his shoulders as he begins to walk back, not going as fast as he'd like too though as he had to keep stopping to analyze where he should go. Though eventually, he made it back through the building, coming down the front steps a few moments later. Being able to see more now, he glances up as he approaches the car. John stands silently by the trunk. Sam throws the guns in before going to get in the backseat to be with his brother, only to his dismay, John had Dean propped up in the front. 

"Get in Sam." John says, before opening up the driver's side door and climbing inside. The door slams with a jolt, sending a shiver through Sam's spine. He opens up the back driver's side door, climbing in and shutting it. The drive back to the motel was long, and for once, nobody said a word. John didn't talk about any sort of plan, and Sam didn't try and ramble on and on about his schoolwork. The only sound was the occasional groan from Dean if they were to hit an extremely hard bump. 

When they finally arrived back at the motel, John got out of the car, going around to Dean's side to help him out. "C'mon, Son." He says gruffly, slinging one of Dean's arms over his shoulders. "Sam." John huffs out. Sam was immediately at his brother's side, slinging the other arm over. The three of them quickly walked to their motel room, Sam occasionally glancing down at his brother's lolled head as it rolled slightly. Once inside, the pair quickly took Dean over to one of the beds, laying him down gently on it. 

"Alright Dean," John begins, having already started to fetch the supplies he'd need. Sam sits next to his brother on the bed in silence. "I'm going to need to patch you up." John sits on the opposite side of Dean, beginning to undo the now wrinkled tourniquet. Dean hisses as he feels the air hitting his wound but says nothing. Instead, he reaches his hand out, grabbing Sam's hand gently. 

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asks, cracking an eye open. His voice was rough, scratchy. Sam had the nerve to scoff. How dare Dean ask him if he was okay when Dean was the one who was getting patched up from a gunshot wound _he caused_. Sam just shakes his head. 

"What do y-" Dean's cut off by a grunt when John begins pouring alcohol over the wound. "Sonavabitch." He curses underneath his breath, before breathing out slowly. John raises an eyebrow at his sons' language but says nothing as he cleans the wound again, before passing the bottle to Dean. 

"Drink up. You'll need it." He murmurs, Dean shifts himself a little so that he's leaning on his right arm, grabbing the bottle from his dad with his left, hissing at the movement. He gladly takes a swig, and then another, before finally setting the bottle down on the bed next to him. 

"Okay." He says, looking at his dad. "I'm ready." John nods in affirmation, before grabbing a needle and some thread. He then begins to stitch Dean up, sweat beginning to pool along the eldest Winchester as he tries hard to bite back his pain. Sam can hear Dean next to him, can feel Dean's hand squeezing him each time John pulls his skin closer. Sam can't take it anymore. He jumps off the bed and darts into the bathroom. He can hear Dean worry out his name as he shuts the door. 

He turns on the faucet, washing his face at least four times before he finally has the nerve to look at himself. Hollowed, bloodshot eyes stare back at him. He reaches his right hand up, his reflection reaching its left, running it through his hair. His blood is boiling. He's so upset at himself. How could he have been so stupid?

_What kind of freak shoots their own brother?_

"Sam." _Dad._ Sam can hear his father moving his hand to the doorknob. In a flash Sam has it locked. It jiggles when John tries to open it. "C'mon, son. We have to talk." Sam gulps. His legs feel like jelly. He braces a hand on the counter to steady himself. 

"What... What do we need to talk about?" As if Sam already didn't know. He could hear John sigh against the door before it creaks lightly, indicating he had leaned against it from the outside. Sam fixes himself into a better position, now sitting on the toilet seat which lay adjacent from the door. 

"Dean." Sam swallows at that answer but a few moments later gives a sigh. Even though he could feel tears threatening to spill, he also knew that he couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. Sam pushes his body upwards into a standing position, once again using the counter to brace himself on. He fumbles his hand around the doorknob, unlocking it and pulling it open. He doesn't meet his father's gaze. 

"Come." Sam can see John's boots disappear from his vision as he walks away, following his dad only moments later. He can see John sit down on the bed that Dean isn't still occupying. Sam goes over, slowly, and sits on the one he is. Dean's worried glare hits him when he sits down. 

"Now," John clears his throat a little bit. Sam peeks out at his dad from behind his bangs. He can feel his face growing hot and the sting of tears behind his eyes as he takes a small glance at Dean, not caring how noticeable it is. Dean is bandaged from where the bullet- _Sam's bullet_ -cut across his skin. Dean also had little bits and pieces of dirt and dust on him from where he fell, along with a few additional scrapes here and there, but for the most part, the gunshot wound was the only major thing that concerned Sam. "Now that we're all here, I think it's time to talk about what happened tonight." 

John claps his hands together a little too loud for Sam's liking. Sam looks up at his father now, crinkling his nose as he tries not to spill his tears once again. He sets his hands into fists on his knees, willing himself to remain as stoic as possible. If he doesn't show emotion on the outside, the emotions on the inside won't show, either. 

The logic sounded great to him at that moment. 

"Sam, do you have anything you want to say?" John's voice is rough against his ears, cutting and slicing its way into his brain. He swallows. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He licks his now dry lips. 

"I..." His voice comes out in a small, quiet tone. He clears his throat. No emotion. "I don't know what to s-say." _Damnit. So close._ John scoffs a little at his son's answer, clearly not liking it. He can see Dean's eyebrow raise from the corner of his eye. 

"You don't know?" John's voice suddenly lunges itself at Sam, digging into his head for a second time within the last few minutes. "How about explaining to me why on _fucking earth_ you didn't stick to the plan?" Sam's tongue is lax in his mouth and no matter how much he wants too he can't speak. And no matter how much he swallows the lumps that form they're back in his throat in no time.

Sam can hear Dean muttering about how they both just need to calm down, preferably John as Sam isn't exactly doing much to fight with his father right now, though he isn't doing much to NOT fight with him either. 

"I don't..." Sam clears his throat again but soon straightens his composure, finally lifting his head. "I didn't mean to shoot him dad." He murmurs, even hating the acidity of the words as they roll over his tongue and fall out of his mouth. That was one thing he never thought he'd say in his life. 

His father scoffs again as he stands. Great. Now Sam has to stand, too. Sam clumsily gets up from the bed, holding his ground though after he finds it. The tears are threatening to spill again. He hates how his dad looks at him like this is all his fault. 

_It is._ And Sam knows it,

"It doesn't matter that you didn't mean to shoot him, Sam." John but all near growls. He doesn't move towards Sam, though, but instead keeps standing in his spot, hands balling into small fists, clenching and unclenching. "What matters is that you did. Dean didn't shoot himself, I didn't shoot him, _you did_." Venom leaks from John's words, knowing full well the effect they're having on the youngest Winchester. That was the issue. Whenever they fought, the other one always knew how to push the other one's buttons. 

Sam goes to open his mouth again, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just stays quiet. Hanging his head, letting his hair fall over his face. He didn't want to be seen by anyone. He just wanted to be invisible. 

"If you had just followed the plan as any other hunter would've, then nothing would have happened. Dean would've done as he was supposed to do, you would've done what you were supposed to do, I would've done what I was supposed to do, and we wouldn't be here, in this mess of a moment right now. But instead," John begins to pace a little, back and forth in his own area. His hands fly up into his hair, tugging and pulling on the strands in frustration. "You didn't. For whatever reason Sam, and I don't know what it is, you completely and utterly disobeyed me. And look at what happened." He gestures to Dean, who at this point, was now sitting up again, using a few pillows to prop his back against the headboard. 

"Dean got shot." 

Sam can't hold it back anymore. Soft, fat tears begin rolling down his cheeks as he tries to hold back a loud and gut-wrenching sob that breaks through the tension. Sam had tried _so hard_ to not show any emotion. And he was usually so damn good at hiding all of his feelings away from his father, and away from Dean. But tonight, he just couldn't do it. 

Sam's body crumples onto the bed Dean was sitting upon as sobs begin to overtake his body. Sam didn't care how he looked right now, he just wanted to disappear. He just wanted to be alone, to not be around his father, and to not be around Dean. He'd already caused them so much hardship. "I'm sorry." he croaks, snot beginning to trail down his face. He wipes it away on his sweater sleeve. 

"Shhh, Sam, it's okay." Dean's instantly on him, wrapping his arms around his brother. The action only made Sam sob even harder and try to weasel his way from his brother's grip. Here Dean was, shot and in pain, _because of him_ , and _Dean's_ the one comforting _him_. 

"No, it's not. I s-... I sho..." Sam breaks down again, unable to even utter those very words. He uses his hands to grip onto Dean like its the last thing he'll ever do. He didn't mean to shoot his brother. Dean brings a handoff of his body and begins softly raking his hand through Sam's hair. 

"It's okay." Dean murmurs, pulling Sam a little closer and kissing the top of his head.

That's when Sam gets mad. He pushes himself away from Dean, careful to not damage the wound any further, before stepping up and onto the carpet. "No, it's not!" His voice is cracked and shriveled. "How is any of this okay? None of this is okay, Dean! I shot you!" Sam is heaving now, his chest rising and falling with every deep intake of breath as he looks at his brother, facing away from his father. 

Dean sets his hands up in a small surrender. "It's okay, Sammy." He breathes out, trying to defuse the raging fire that was his brother. "I'm okay. It was just an accident, a one-time thing." 

"It isn't just a one-time thing! I constantly mess up, I almost always get you, or dad hurt because I'm too stupid of a son to get anything right when it comes to hunting!" Sam's breath hitches in his throat once he realizes what he just said, but he doesn't stop there. "Dean, you and dad are constantly, _constantly_ saving my ass whenever we go hunting! I'd need 1,000 fingers to count all the times that I've almost been hurt and you or dad have had to step in to save my ass. Maybe if I wasn't so stupid-" 

"Sam." John's voice breaks Sam from whatever spell he was under that kept him talking. He slowly turns and looks at his father, his tear-filled hazel eyes meeting his dad's suddenly soft brown ones. 

"Dad." Sam's voice is shaky as he sniffles, wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve again before he drops his arms down to his sides. He's trying to play it cool, to play the strong little brother. Be just like Dean. But Sam knows the facades over. Now Dean and his dad know how he truly feels.

He can see John stand up and walk over. "Sammy..." His father starts, but stops, biting his lip lightly, then sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Dean, who was now trying to get as close to Sam as possible, biting back his own grunts of pain to go and comfort Sam. 

"Sam, c'mere." Dean murmurs, not even trying to hide the audible grunt that flowed from his lips as he reaches out and grasps Sam's wrist, pulling him down lightly yet a bit forcefully so that he was sat in-between Dean and John. "Sammy," Sam bites his lip as he hears his brother say his nickname. Any other time he would've retorted with "It's Sam," but then again, every other time Dean said it his voice wasn't filled with despair and sadness. 

"Do you really think that?" Sam's body breaks into a cold sweat when Dean confronts him with that question. His mind starts racing, his hands seeming to wipe themselves on his jeans to get the sweat off. He didn't know what to say. A part of him knows that he helps out and contributes to the hunts that his family does. but a bigger, much larger part of him knows that he does more harm than good. 

And the last thing he wants is to hurt his family, to accidentally hurt Dean... 

_Again._

Sam jumps a bit when he feels Dean's thumb gently wiping away a few more fallen tears as he pushes them out without even knowing. He can feel himself take in a shaky breath, and he sniffles again before he opens his mouth. "I-It's true" He whispers, averting his eyes almost instantly after he says that.

His jeans have never looked so interesting. 

"Oh, Sam." He can hear Dean mumble from his right as he feels both his brothers and his father's arms wrap around him, confining him to the spot where he sat. "Why would you think that? None of its true." Sam wanted to believe his big brother so, so badly. He knew that Dean would never deliberately lie to him, but he just _couldn't._

"Yes, it is Dean. Every single word of what I said is true." He wriggles a bit in between his father and his brother, but ultimately ends up just pressing closer to Dean. "All I do is just screw up. Ever since I was born I was screwing things up." A second after he says those words he feels his family hug him tighter. They all knew what his words implied, and whether they believed him or not, Sam knows. He knows how terrible he is. 

"No, no. That wasn't your fault." Sam can hear John's shaky voice come from behind him, he can feel someone squeeze him tighter, but he doesn't know which. "It's not your fault Sammy. It was never anyone's fault, except that damn demons." Sam swallows as he tries to steady his breathing. "You couldn't have done this. You were just a baby. You know this.

You're better than this." Sam can feel a small shift of pride form in his chest. Maybe... Maybe his father was right. He had never seen John be so vulnerable before, only giving out little bits and pieces of words to let his sons know he doesn't despise or hate their existence. If John was being _this_ vulnerable, then maybe he wasn't lying.

Sam doesn't know how long he and his family sat there - John wrapped around Sam from the left, arms squeezing his son every so often, murmuring phrases of encouragement to the best of his ability. Dean, knuckles white with the grip he has on Sam, _his Sam_ , holding his brother as close as he can with his own injury and whispering loving things, all the while kissing the top of his head to let Sam know he's there for him. 

"Thank you." Sam's small voice breaks the hot and stuffy silence that surrounded the family as he wriggles around in their grips again, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. His family wasn't usually the "hold-me-when-I'm-sad-type," but he's kind of glad that they broke that rule tonight, even though he'd never say it. His breath comes out slow as he steadies his emotions, feeling his father's hands slip from his waist, Dean loosening his grip on him ever so slightly. 

"Of course." Dean and his father both tell him at the same time, Sam shifting his position. "I hope you know Sam, that none of what you said is true. Sure, Dad and I have to save you some of the time, but what about when you save us? Believe it or not, Sam, if it hadn't have been for you saving my ass on several occasions, I wouldn't be here right now. And I know that Dad agrees with me." 

Sam lets Dean's words wash over him, let them go into his head and start to knock around all the bad thoughts he's been feeling. "We _need_ you with us. Even though you and I bump heads sometimes, and I guess I can be a bit harder on you than I am on your brother when it comes to hunting..." Sam peeks over to see John rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You're still a Winchester. We're a family." 

"But in all seriousness, Sammy, we do need you around." Sam looks back over and up at his brother when he speaks, Dean now laughing softly, face contorting in slight pain every few bounces of his chest. "I mean, without you, who would do all the research?" 

Sam lets out a low chuckle at that, feeling his chest swell up with the first few twinges of happiness that he's felt in a long time. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He mumbles, reaching one of his hands against Dean's chest and pushing his brother away gently."I am sorry I shot you, though." He bites his lip when he says the words, but releases it when he sees both his dad and Dean staring at him. 

"It's okay," Dean assures, nodding a little bit. "You just have to pay attention next time." Sam can see John and Dean continue to nod along with Dean's statement. 

_It's okay._

He repeats the words in his mind to himself as he feels Dean's arms unwrap from around him, and he sees his brother get more situated on the bed than he was. Sam swallows as he continues to turn the words over as he gets himself resituated on the same bed, his dad getting up from his spot and going into the small bathroom to fetch Dean more gauze and painkillers. One half of him knew that it would be okay in the long run, he wasn't stupid, but he didn't know how long it would be okay for now. 

Then again, the other half of him knew that with his family, he could do anything. As if Dean could read his mind, Sam feels his brother grab his hand again. "Hey Sam," He says, and Sam's hazel eyes lock with Dean's forest green. "We'll get through this. As a family." 

And maybe, _maybe_ Sam just starts to believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all who made it this far, I really appreciate it. I hope the ending wasn't (too) bad, I was in a bit of a rush to get this finished before the semester ended. I hope it didn't impact the story in a negative way. I'm trying to do better at letting people read my writing and offer me criticism, so please don't hesitate to leave a comment. They're appreciated!


End file.
